


Nothing Gold Can Stay

by inkstainedhands



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Scars, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedhands/pseuds/inkstainedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had never really thought about angels having a sense of decency before, but if the look on Cas’ face was any indication, they definitely did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Gold Can Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Nature's first green is gold,   
> Her hardest hue to hold.   
> Her early leaf's a flower;   
> But only so an hour.   
> Then leaf subsides to leaf.   
> So Eden sank to grief,   
> So dawn goes down to day.  
> Nothing gold can stay.  
> -Robert Frost

He’d never really thought about angels having a sense of decency before, but if the look on Cas’ face was any indication, they definitely did. A whoosh of air signaled the angel’s exit, and Sam turned to face his brother. Dean stared at him with a mixture of horror and amusement.

“Dude, you understand that’s personal right?” Sam arched a brow. “Like, you would have gotten a better reaction if you’d told him to take off his clothes.”

Note to self: no messing with Dean’s angel boyfriend.

“And you know this because...” If it weren’t impossible, Sam would have sworn he saw the ghost of a blush on his brother’s cheeks.

“That’s not the point. Just-- just no more asking to see his wings, okay?” Dean grabbed his jacket and keys. “I’m gonna go find Cas’”

Great. One question and everyone goes into a tailspin.

When Dean was gone, Sam slumped against a wall.

“I’m here to defend my lil’ bro’s honor.” A voice came from the back of the room. A familiar voice. A way too familiar voice. Sam turned on a heel.

“Look. I didn’t know. No one ever told me that asking to see an angel’s wings is...” he stopped, and Gabriel took the chance to finish for him. 

“Just about the most personal thing you could possibly ask?” He eyed Sam suspiciously. “Why did you?”

“I just-” Sam could feel the tips of his ears turn red. “I thought they’d be, y’know, beautiful.”

Gabriel laughed, something almost bitter tainting his usual mirthful chuckle. “Yeah, beautiful. Look kiddo, I don’t think you’re gonna get anyone to show you their wings. They wouldn’t understand.”

Hesitating, the Winchester stepped towards Gabriel. “You understand, right?”

It was a long shot, but Sam figured that if any angel lacked a sense of decency, it would be Gabriel.

His response suggested otherwise.

“Sam... no.”

“Just hear me out okay?” Gabriel looked pained, but Sam went on. “I get that this is some sort of off limits thing for angels, but you’ve never cared before, so why not?”

“Sam, look. I-”

“They’d be here, right?”

Sam’s fingers trailed between his shoulder blades, and Gabriel could feel his wings unfurling, becoming visible one golden feather at a time. Behind him, the hand drew back and he heard Sam gasp.

Gabriel was across the room in seconds, but his expression had lost its usual childish smirk. He looked like a wounded animal. The angel raised his head, eyes blazing with barely restrained grace.

“Do you know what I am?” Sam just stared, awestruck. “I am. An. Archangel.” He spat the word. “I am as old as this marble you live on, and I am a soldier.”

He curled his wings around his body protectively.

“I-” Sam began. What could he say?

Gabriel had six wings, all crisscrossed with scars, overlapping patterns of sword and claw marks visible in places where the feathers would never grow back. The top right wing was slightly bent, as if it had been broken, and Sam registered the two sets of foot long claw marks running down it. Above them was a crescent shaped pattern of dots. A bite mark, Sam realized. He remembered the way the hellhounds had torn at Dean’s body and shuddered. The bitterness in Gabriel’s voice made sense now. Sam hadn’t known what he was expecting, but this mangled disaster of gnarled and matted feathers was not it. Gabriel’s voice stunned him out of his reverie.

“You what? You’re sorry? You didn’t know? Do me a favor, child, don’t ask about things you don’t understand.”

Sam crossed his arms. Usually, Gabriel was the only one that treated him like an adult. Dean still thought of him as ‘Sammy’, and Cas (of course) followed Dean’s example.

“So let me!” He yelled, the words coming out angrier that intended. “I want to know.”

Honey-gold eyes dropped to the floor.

“Know what?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Why can’t you just heal them?”  
Were it not for the genuine curiosity in Sam’s voice, Gabriel might have snapped at him. As it was, he relaxed his wings and began to talk.

“I can’t. They’re a part of me.”

Sam nodded, but Gabriel could see he didn’t really understand.

“My vessel is just what holds me, like a container that I can patch up when I need to, but wings are a physical manifestation of an angel’s grace. Is that all?”

It was inappropriate to ask, Sam knew, but he didn’t think Gabriel could get any more offended. “Can I-” His fingers twitched, a half aborted version of a motion he was too afraid to make. “Can I touch them?” 

An angels wings, however disgusting and ruined, were enchanting; Gabriel knew that. Any human who saw them would be compelled to touch. It was just their nature, and Sam was no different. Even so, he drew back at the request. It had been so long... this was the longest he’d kept them manifested in centuries. Sam followed, stepping forward as the angel stepped back, eyes fixed on the wings.

Resignedly, Gabriel forced himself to stand still. He could feel the cool electric tingle of his grace flowing through his vessel, his wings, pooling up behind his eyes to make the golden irises glow with ethereal light. Sam’s eyes widened, and Gabriel shut his, pulling the grace back. As soon as they were closed, he felt a hand on his wing and the world stilled. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the shock to subside as Sam’s fingers carded through his feathers, brushing along a scar. Another hand landed on one of his right wings, and Gabriel could feel Sam’s breath on his cheek. Neither of them said anything. There was no way of telling how long the silence lasted, but it was different for both of them.

Sam was in complete awe, unable to speak for fear of saying something wrong, so he just kept on touching. He ran his fingers through clumps of feathers that clung to each other, stuck together by the blood of wounds long healed as Gabriel stood.

The archangel was still not out of peace or patience, but out of fear. His silence was not one of choice, but necessity. If he moved, he might knock Sam across the room. If he spoke, he might shatter all the windows. So he waited, trying not to concentrate too hard on the feeling of Sam’s fingers on his wings.

It didn’t work. 

There was too much at once, too much of hands and fingers curling themselves into feathers, brushing along scars that no one had ever touched. Too much of Sam’s breath against his cheek, too much of the oppressive silence that cloaked everything in the room with it’s weight. Eyes still shut tight, Gabriel stepped back.

There was no sound from Sam, but the hands let up and Gabriel’s grace stabilized, no longer the dangerous, erratic force it had been. He opened his eyes, immediately feeling exposed.

Sam was still staring.

He continued to stare as the wings faded, folding in upon themselves until there was nothing left but Gabriel.

There wasn’t anything that needed saying, so the pair stood in silence for a second, processing. After a while the smirk returned to the angel’s face, and Sam relaxed onto the bed with a sigh. Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the noise from other side of the door turned both their heads. 

When the Winchester turned back, Gabriel was smiling fondly at him, one hand up in that ever familiar snapping position.  
‘  
“See you around Samsquatch” 

*snap*

The door swung open a few seconds later.

“Heya Sammy, miss me?” Dean asked, not noticing Sam’s expression. Cas was a different story. The angel was staring at him intently, shock and confusion written on his face. Sam lowered his eyes under the scrutiny, mumbling something vaguely sarcastic at Dean before walking out into the fresh air.

The rest of the day passed without his noticing, and when the sun went down he collapsed into itchy motel sheets, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

That night, Sam Winchester dreamt of gold.


End file.
